The Comparison Trap

A few weeks ago, a friend shared this comic from one of my favorite websites, Zen Pencils. Gavin Aung Than's artwork always catches my eye, but this time the quote especially struck something in me I've been thinking about recently. In the cartoon, philosopher and writer Juddi Krishnamurti observes that from birth, we learn to measure our own self-worth by comparing ourselves with other people:

In an ordinary school where there are a lot of boys, when one boy is compared with another who is very clever, who is the head of the class, what is actually taking place? You are destroying the boy. 

I didn't grow up with siblings to be compared to, but I grew up with neighbors and cousins, and was never immune to these comparisons. Though my parents tried to balance them out with healthy doses of encouragement, I internalized comparing just like everyone else, and it stuck: "Her handwriting is nicer than mine," "She serves a volleyball faster than me," "He can draw better than me." Over the years that has become "She's a more motivated writer than I am," "He's a more well-read professor," "She's thinner and thus more beautiful according to societal ideals."

Measuring self-worth by comparison can be toxic to anyone in any environment, but in polyamory can be even more damaging. I mean, think about it - I'm constantly exposed to other people who are with, in one way or another, people who I am with. If I'm not comparing myself to the people themselves, I am comparing how I am treated with how others are treated, or I'm comparing how this relationship is progressing versus how this one progressed. (Which is ironic, in a way, because one of the reasons I like polyamory is that all relationships are different.)

But if I've been raised to internalize comparison, and I'm always going to be around those who are easy to compare myself to, how do I escape from the trap?

The conclusion Krishnamurti gives, that looking within to find out who you are instead of looking without, encourages us to avoid the trap altogether: essentially, he's saying just stop comparing. But that's hard, especially in a world that's based on comparison and competition. I would be lying to myself and everyone else if I said that Krishnamurti's solution is realistic for me.

In a response to the cartoon, another friend told the story of the energy she spent throughout high school trying to be better than another French horn player from a different school. Once they'd actually started talking in college, they realized that both thought the other was more talented, and instead of destroying their self-worth, the comparison pushed both of them to get better. She used the comparison as a motivator. What have I been using it for?

So far, nothing. I've been noticing it and letting it make me feel shitty. I haven't been using it as a motivator. I haven't been using it as an opportunity to learn. I haven't been using it as a way to grow. I've been letting it do to me what it does to the boy in the cartoon: destroy self-worth and confidence. I push the successes of my peers away to keep them from bringing me down, instead of using them as a motivator to bring me up.

I know I need to change. I know I need to figure out what motivates that writer, what books that professor has read, what that couple has done to be happy all this time. I need to focus on what's good about my relationships instead of what looks like it's better in others. I need to catch myself comparing and ask, "What am I using this for?" and if the answer is "Nothing" then I need to distract myself with something else until I can stop. It's not going to be easy. In fact, I'm comparing myself to others right now - others who can recognize something in themselves and be like, "I'll change that," and then just do it. (To those of you who might think I am one of those people, and have made peace with all the challenges I discuss in this blog, I'll set the record straight: I have not. Not even half of them. Not even a quarter. This stuff is still hard.)

But thinking about it and recognizing it is probably a good start. I was thankful that my friend who posted the cartoon gave me the opportunity to think about it more. And I'm thankful that Than did such an amazing job of illustrating Krishnamurti's words, because they impacted me more than they would have in text form. I would say that I wish I could draw as well as Than, but instead I'll say that I'm glad he can draw and design the way he can so that we can all appreciate it. (Did that count as a start?)

Holidays in the Closet

When I came out to my parents as bisexual and poly in 2011, I had good intentions. I wanted to have an open and honest relationship with my family the way I can with everyone else in my life. However, their fears of my "lifestyle" becoming public -- to other family members, their friends, or even people my father knows professionally -- made me realize it was going to take a lot of time and gentle information-sharing to be able to get to "open and honest."

So I'd been talking to them about it slowly and carefully since then, only really bringing it up if they ask, being careful not to give them (especially my mother) more information than I feel like they could handle. I'd mentioned casually on the phone that I was dating a married man (though didn't name him) and thought my mom was getting used to the fact. So during her most recent visit from the Midwest, when an opportunity arose to meet Adam and his wife, I wrestled for a while with how honest I could be.

I ultimately considered everyone's potential awkwardness and my mother's possible stress and chose to introduce them as friends. And other than being slightly annoyed as I usually am when I have to act like just a friend around someone I feel so strongly about, everything went well -- until Adam and I (stupidly) decided to share a quick kiss in another room and my mother saw us. I tried to back up, introduce him as my boyfriend and be truthful, but it was too late. She told us she didn't approve, even if everyone else there did, and the encounter ruined the rest of her trip (and the rest of her week after she got home).

On National Coming Out Day, I mentioned in this post that my biggest reason to come out is to be able to be me. I thought that ultimately, if I could be honest about myself and my life and show my family how happy and secure I am in it, they would be happy for me. But in the last month I've realized that being out to my mother is causing more damage than good. Her worries -- that I'm going to be hurt, or end up alone, or somehow not blossom into whatever ideal person she'd imagined -- are hurting her, and those worries bubble to the surface every time I talk about being bi or poly.

At Christmas I talked to my father, who is more open to discussing such things, about how I could be honest with Mom without making her upset. His suggestion was one I should have anticipated: you can't, so don't. Please, he was saying, go back in the closet in front of her, and stay in the closet with the rest of the family.

So despite how I feel about being able to be myself, I did. I didn't talk about any other partners other than Joel for the rest of the trip. I've just started talking more about my "friends," not naming anyone in particular. It was hard, and I felt an immense relief upon my plane landing back home after the eight days we spent together, but so far the relationship with my parents is less strained. I'm happy knowing I'm not causing my mother pain, and I'm trying not to worry.

I try not to wonder what will happen if I decide to move in with more than one partner someday, maybe even marry again. I try not to wonder what kind of toll this hiding will take on my relationship with my family in the future. I don't know what will happen. But I do know that even though they don't want to know everything about me, my family of origin still loves me, and that's more than some people can say after coming out. Taking that comfort with me, and the comfort that I have a chosen family here who also loves me, will hopefully make those temporary closet visits a little less dark for as long as I have to take them. 

Not-So-Tiny Problems I Have with this Cosmo Article About Not-So-Tiny Short People Problems

For those of you following along at home, a little bit about me: I'm short. Not like, a little-smaller-than-average short, but like really short. Like under-five-feet short. And as I am prone to having problems sometimes living in a country where everyone, on average, is a half-foot taller than me, you could expect me to appreciate an article with the title, "17 Not-So-Tiny Problems Only Short People Understand."

Not so, if you couldn't tell from my oh-so-subtle title.

Now I'm not arguing that none of these are problems for anyone - I can only speak for myself. And for myself, my biggest fear is that someone will read this article and think, "Oh no! Kate can't grocery shop alone! Kate can't ever put her feet up on the couch! Kate can't hold hands with anyone over 5'6"! STOP CALLING KATE 'CUTE!'" Never fear, people who might read Cosmo and worry about me. I'm fine. 

Here's my response to Cosmo's list:

"[People] really like to call you cute. It gets annoying fast." 

I guess if you're going for "beautiful" or "knock-out, drop-dead gorgeous," cute could be a step down. But I'm not going for particularly anything. Sure, I'm called "cute" far more often than I'm called "beautiful" or "gorgeous," but I'm okay with that. Please, continue with the cute-ing. I won't be offended or bite your ankles or anything like that. 

"Hope you have small ladder." 

Secretly, I like jumping up on counters. It's like the only time I do anything vaguely acrobatic. 

"Standing-room-only concerts are the worst. Oh, did you want to see Beyoncé perform?"

Actually no, not really. But if you really want my take on this, it's called planning. If I really really wanted to see Beyoncé perform, or more realistically, OK Go, I would show up to the venue early enough to stake out a good place. I mean, I know planning is hard. But I'm a big girl, inside. I can handle it.

"Grocery shopping is an exercise in flirting." 

Wait, what? The only way I can ever possibly get that can of soup on the top shelf is by flirting? Screw that noise, I'll use the longest item in my cart I can find - baguette, wrapping paper tube, box of cereal - and knock that sucker down myself. Or, you know, Ask someone politely to get something for me. Like a human being who doesn't need to flirt to get what I want.

"You might as well not bother owning an ottoman because your feet will never reach it." 

If only I were smart enough to get up and move the ottoman. But I'm too short! I have less brain power than everyone else!

"You have to wear heels to work. If you don't, you are basically a foot shorter than all your coworkers." 

Don't you tell me what to do, Cosmo. I'm lucky to work in academia, but even if I worked in, say, business, where I would have to more actively assert myself as a woman (and a short one at that), I would do so with my voice, not at the expense of my feet and back. 

"You look up to everyone. Literally." 

Oh wow, a correct usage of the word "literally"! I'm actually quite impressed with this one! Still rolling my eyes at the non-problem, but impressed nonetheless!

"Making out with a tall dude is a workout." 

My ex is 6'4" and I will admit, dancing at our wedding was a little ridiculous. But there are these awesome things called couches (and ottomans! Good thing I ended up getting one of those anyway!)

"Holding hands is also awkward." 

Now you're reaching, Cosmo, something I never have to do when holding hands - not even with my ex.

"People use your shoulder as their personal armrest, and sometimes your head as a headrest. Do I look like furniture?" 

No, seriously, do I? I know I waffled a bit on buying this paisley sweater but now I'm starting to worry I look a little ottoman-y. 

"Taking pictures is a nightmare. It takes at least three takes to convince your taller friend that 1) she should not bend down to take a photo with you and 2) she does not look like a yeti next to you." 

Honestly, taller friends who are reading this post, I don't care what you do when we take a picture together. Heck, you can just stand behind me and use my head as a headrest. That might even be the cutest possible arrangement for us to be pictured together.

"You will never be a supermodel." 

Promise?

A Tale of Two Metamours

When I met my first metamour, or partner of a partner, I was terrified. She was the first girl Joel went on more than a few dates with and I wanted to meet her because I knew that getting to know her would allay some of my fears and jealously. We'd exchanged some messages online so I knew I would like her, but that stomach-cramping, heart-racing feeling I had while waiting for her to meet us at the the bar made me want to go home and forget the whole thing. Maybe I was better not knowing; maybe we should have a don't-ask-don't-tell policy. Maybe being poly wasn't actually my thing after all.

And then she came through the door, and in the minute it took her to walk to our booth, my jumbled mass of thoughts clarified into one: Wow, she's hot. Fifteen minutes later I not only realized I wasn't jealous anymore, I realized I liked her. We had a lot in common, made each other laugh, and both liked so many of the same qualities in Joel. A few days later she and I went on our first date, and though she's not dating either of us any longer, I now consider her one of my closest friends. As with many things in Joel and my relationship, meeting metamours got so much easier after that. (I met the most recent one randomly when I ran into them on their way out to dinner. It was no big deal. It was a quick, "Hello!" and smile and wave. I walked away grinning stupidly at the awesomeness of our lives.)

But as with many things in Adam and my relationship, the metamour situation was a little more complicated. There wasn't fear of the unknown - I knew his wife before I met him, in fact - but once Adam and I started dating, things shifted for me in how I thought about her. She was no longer just my friend - now she was the wife of a guy I'd fallen for really hard. I stopped feeling like I could talk to her as freely as I used to. I felt awkward around her at parties. Instead of embracing her as my newfound metamour in addition to being all those great things she was before, I pulled back from her all together.

But of course becoming more distanced from her made me feel worse, so with some prodding from Joel and Adam I decided to just tell her about everything: about how this was my first time dating a married man, my first time being a secondary to anyone at all, and on top of it, my first time in a long time feeling the way I feel about her husband. Her response was not surprising, and made me feel silly for having waited so long to have this conversation: I never wanted you to be uncomfortable around me, you can come to me whenever to talk about it, and I'm happy you and Adam are together.

A few days later she and I met for dinner, and my anxiety was gone. We got to know each other even better. She told me stories about their past that didn't make my stomach clench. And, best of all, we talked a lot about how great Adam is -- how cute he is when he does or says or wears something, and how much being with him makes us both happy. It might have been the delicious German beer we were drinking, but that dinner left me so warm and fuzzy I was mushy for days.

Since then, I've obviously felt closer to Adam's wife but also have felt closer to Adam, because I knew for a fact that everyone involved is rooting for us. It's not that I ever felt disapproval, it was that I needed that approval to come from personal interactions with her before I truly believed it. There are still times I feel a pang when I think about the ways that they are close that we are not, but that's a natural side effect of both being in love with someone new and also being a secondary (which is something that I'll probably think about and reflect on more in posts to come). At least now I know that I can push back any irrational worries about disapproval and move on.

There are two things I've learned from these two experiences I hope to carry with me when the next challenge comes along: A. My boyfriend and partner are great, and it would make sense that anyone else who agrees with me will also be great, and B. Metamours aren't there to be feared, but to be embraced. They are there to learn from and learn with, support, and commiserate with (in a healthy, non-gossipy way), and best of all, to gush with. Because who better to appreciate the sickening, rambling mush that comes from puppy love than someone else who's felt it too?

As with everything, becoming comfortable with metamours is challenging. Not everyone will always want to form the close relationships I find the most rewarding. But also as with everything I've found in poly so far, working at developing those relationships in ways that work best for everyone involved is worth the challenge. I have too many complicated emotions about relationships to go it alone. Besides, how else will you figure out what to get your new boyfriend for his birthday?

Gratitude Season

All month, I've been reading posts on friends' Facebook pages proclaiming things they are grateful for. Once or twice I thought about following suit, since one of the things I tend to do is zone in on things I'm anxious about, or things I want but can't have, instead of things that I do have. But as I'm trying these days to find reasons to get off Facebook instead of being pulled back in, I never joined them. So instead, here is my contribution to gratitude season. I am grateful for...

My Cat
Self-explanatory. I mean, look at her.

My Communities
The support of the bisexual and poly communities are invaluable, and I'm thankful to have the time and energy to put work into them to pass the support along to others.

My Job
This has been one of the toughest four months of my life, but I am employed doing something I (think I still) love doing. I am actually using the degree I will be paying back for many, many years to come. I can make my own weekly schedule, have a college work year with awesome breaks, and can grade in my underwear.

My Family
Despite the stress that comes with parents who do not approve of my relationships or sexuality, I still have their support. I know that there are so many people out there who have been cut out of their families' lives after coming clean about who they are, so I remind myself that no matter how upset I might be at times that I can't share everything, I am still their daughter.

My Friends
The support that my parents can't provide -- the emotional support that is related to living the lives that we live -- has been coming from my network of diverse, caring, loving friends. They are truly my chosen family, and the biggest reason I am reluctant to ever leave what I now refer to as my home.

My Partners
I still can't believe how lucky I am to have them: Joel, who has been my rock and the source of most of my laughter for (almost) five years, and Adam, who continues to give me new reasons to smile every day. They make all the challenges that go along with being poly 100% worth it. (And also happen to be two of the cutest guys I know.)

It might not be a whole month's worth, and there are certainly more things I'm grateful for, like Diet Dr. Pepper, Harpoon UFO White, the Internet, and buffalo chicken pizza. But those are the big ones - the ones I should hang onto when it gets dark just too damned early and I have to cram onto a bus to go home and grade. And to them I should add this: I am grateful that I have the ability to help others who have less than I do. Above all else, I think gratitude season should always remind us of that.

Road to Nowhere: Ignoring Societal Relationship Trajectories

Poly and Partner, sitting in a tree

(I haven't heard this one in a while.)

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

(Might be a little precarious up there, and depending on how high up...eh, I'll allow it.)

First comes love,

(Aren't we jumping ahead a little bit? I mean, first comes lots of talking, cuddling, and processing?)

Then comes marriage,

(Well, erm, this is awkward but, he's sort of already--)

Then comes the baby in a--

(OKAY that's enough. I want down. Someone find me a ladder.)

From the time we are born, rhymes like this one are pounded into our brains. There's of course not the same level of expectation as there was in our parents' generation or their parents' generation, but this trajectory is everywhere nonetheless. We always hear about falling in love with "the one," moving in together, getting married, having children. That's the goal, the end-all-be-all of societal happiness -- which, by the way, is out of reach for single people, couples who don't co-habitate, and the childless (or what I'd rather refer to as "childfree").

It took a long time for Joel's family to come to terms with the fact that I was his girlfriend but we didn't have that trajectory in mind - the years went on and there was no talk of moving in a certain direction, no planning to move in together, no rings. And even though my own parents are happy that I'm focusing on myself after so many years of being focused on my ex's career and what our relationship was doing, they, too, want me to get back on that road to marriage.

And these expected societal trajectories of relationships are a lot of times focused on in poly, too - as stories of ethical non-monogamy trickle more and more into the mainstream, they're very often about domestic bliss, raising children as a community, and planning alternative weddings. But what about those of us who aren't going to follow that trajectory in some or all of our relationships, either by choice or circumstance? What is all this pressure doing to how we view our individual relationships?

A few years ago, I was sad that Joel didn't want to co-habitate. But then as I grew more independent and busy, and we both started to date more, we realized that our setup actually worked pretty well for us. We roll our eyes at our parents, but take solace in the fact that we're enjoying our relationship in the way that is comfortable for us, not in the way that society says should be comfortable for us.

After working through it with Joel, it should have been easy to come into my relationship with Adam in much the same "fuck 'em we'll be who we are" way. But like so many things that come with firecracker-like feelings, it's more complicated than expected. Instead of seeing a lack of trajectory as being freeing, as it has been with Joel, it's sometimes unsettling.  I occasionally think more about what we will never do than of what we will do, or even more disappointing, what we are doing now. It's sad because I miss things. I'll be staring off at the patterns in my textured ceiling dwelling on something unknown while next to me, Adam's just happy to be there.

This is one of those things that made it onto my Poly is Hard list because these trajectories are something I can't escape easily. I want to just cut down the damned tree in the poem so no one has to kiss in it anymore. It is cheering to think back to a time I was sad about my lack of trajectory with Joel, and think about how far we've come. It's also cheering to think that someday I may meet someone whose idea of trajectories are the same as the ones in love songs, if that's even what I still want for my sappy, romantic self someday. But for now, it's hard.

For now, I'll attempt to cope by playing "Road to Nowhere" on repeat and keep telling myself, "Baby, it's all right." I'll attempt to stop staring at the ceiling and look at Adam's ridiculously cute dimples and feel his warm hugs and think of little else than how lucky I am. And I'll remind myself that there are people out there who have followed those societal trajectories of relationships -- I used to be one of them -- and end up not even a fraction of how happy I am with my partners. So maybe the goal to be happy with where we are can be a trajectory in itself, and the destination becomes the journey, the ride, the cuddles, that really good beer, etc.

Sounds corny, yes, and I'm not sure it'll work. But I have to try, because it sure sounds safer than trying to lug a baby carriage up a tree.

Return of the Jealousy Monster

While Adam was out of town with other partners this past weekend, I had a visit from my Jealousy Monster. It arrived on Thursday afternoon, settled in even as I tried to unseat it with a bubble bath and a relaxing evening of reading, and was still gorging happily on envy the next day, making the most annoying chewing sounds - like someone eating potato chips and smacking their lips in an otherwise silent room. My weekend, which was jam-packed with fun things, was at stake. I had to do something. 

In my previous post about managing expectations, I talked about the fact that most of what I know about navigating relationships comes from past experiences. I know, for example, that I fear the unknown, so when I've approached situations involving jealousy before, my first instinct is to have everything laid out in front of me. 

But this time, asking about the fun things he was doing made things worse, especially as I was, at that moment, grading a particularly horrible paper. I tried to explain that maybe I didn't need to know the details, at least not right then, and we even tried to change the subject. But the longer we talked the worse I felt. So I tried the complete opposite of my past inclinations: I told him I had to go. I wished him a good weekend, told him we'd talk when he got home, and closed the chat window. 

The immediate relief I felt was almost startling. Who was I? Wasn't I someone who felt that more communication, not less, was the solution to all problems? Hadn't I hated it in past relationships when the other person had requested a few days of silence? I continued to listen closely for my Jealousy Monster for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, but I couldn't hear him. He wasn't gone, but he was no longer making those annoying chewing sounds.

I took advantage of the silence and enjoyed my weekend. It wasn't that I didn't think about Adam, but I wasn't dwelling on the envy the way I might have if we'd been checking in every once in a while. Instead I focused on those other things that make me happy, and because of it was glad to talk again when he got home. 

I know that the Jealousy Monster is still there, biding its time to come out again, and I feel like before I revert back to my tell me everything inclinations I need to make sure I'm ready to hear it. It's nice, though, to realize there are still solutions to be found, and helpful to recognize that they might be the complete opposite of what was expected. Hopefully next time I'll know ahead of time to focus on what's in front of me that I am doing, rather than wondering what I'm not.